


House Arrest

by wendiferous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Because I'm not a monster, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Needs Therapy, Family Dynamics, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Sirius Black, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban, Young Sirius Black, bad people trying to become better people, but they're bad at it, not sirius i would never kill him, parent reacting to death of a child, they are probably not going to get it but they still need it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 20:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendiferous/pseuds/wendiferous
Summary: Before Sirius Black can spend more than a few days in Azkaban, his mother, Walburga Black, uses her considerable influence and fortune to convert his sentence to house arrest in Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Walburga struggle to find a balance of coexisting, both of them wrapped in their grief- Sirius for the death of his best friend, along with his brother, and Walburga for the death of her son. When Sirius turns to her for help getting Harry away from the Dursleys, they will both learn more about each other than they previously wanted.This story is a reimagining of how various events would look if this one detail were changed. Other characters, relationships, and events will be tagged as they come up.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	House Arrest

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been kicking around in my brain and I just couldn't let go of it! So here it is! Unbetaed, writted in a flurry of frantic inspiration. Enjoy :)

Azkaban was cold, and wet. The sound of dripping filled the long halls, broken only by the rattling breaths of the dementors, and the occasional screams of the inmates. Sirius barely noticed. He’d barely noticed anything, since he’d been hauled in here 3 days ago, cackling all the while. That first day, he hadn’t been able to stop laughing, and he hadn’t understood  _ why.  _ It was only once he was alone in his cell for the first time, surrounded by the incessant dripping and the whisper of long cloaks and wind through stone, that his laughter turned into sobs, and he understood. Maybe if he kept laughing, it would all be a joke. Maybe, if he just laughed and laughed instead of thinking about it, Lily and James would still be there, safely hidden in Godric’s Hollow, with Peter just a floo call away. Maybe Remus… 

Even then, his thoughts skittered away from Remus. It was too painful. How could he have misjudged so badly? There, in his cell, alone, he curled around himself, and gradually his sobs quieted, until he was left silent, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he slipped into slumber.

For three days, that was his reality. He woke still crying, and fell asleep with tears pouring out of his eyes. He stared at the wall, or the floor, or the ceiling. He hurt. He hurt and he hurt and he hurt, like he was breaking apart from the inside out and there was nothing he could do about it.

On the fourth day, as he stared at his ceiling, tears cutting hot tracks down his face to fall into his long hair, which was beginning to tangle, he heard footsteps down the hall. This itself was not new- there were human guards who he had seen walking the halls, to deliver rations, to retrieve the inmates for their trials, or to collect a prisoner for a rare visitation. What was new was the cessation of footsteps directly outside his cell, as if someone 

Sirius didn't bother looking up. He knew he wouldn’t get a trial. Everyone who might have cared to visit him was either dead, or believed him a murderer. No one was here for him.

The sound of a key in the lock startled him. He flinched, and jerked away from the door, turning his head to see who was there. His jaw dropped.

“Well? Get up. We’re leaving here.” Before him, in the dark hallway of Azkaban, next to a cowering Azkaban guard, stood Walburga Eridana Black, matriarch of the Black family.

“Mother,” Sirius croaked. He didn’t recognize his voice. He rubbed his eyes, sure he must be seeing things. She continued to stand there, tall and slim as ever, in the gothic, victorian style robes she preferred, buttoned up to her chin. Her hair, swept up into a severe bun with several silver pins gleaming in it, had a bit more gray in it than last he saw her, a few years ago in Diagon Alley. She’d passed him in the street without so much as glancing in his direction. He'd laughed too loud at whatever James had been saying to him, determined to show her that he was happy.

“Come along, I don’t have all day.” With that, his mother turned on her heels, and swept off own the hall, as comfortable here as if she was in Grimmauld Place.

Sirius stared at her, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The guard came into his cell, and jerked him to his feet, before giving him a shove out of the cell. Sirius still didn’t understand what was happening, but he followed his mother down the long, winding hallway, ignoring the dripping and the screaming, until they reached a set of heavily warded and guarded floo banks. His mother threw down the floo powder, called for Grimmauld Place, and gestured curtly at the emerald flames. He’d sworn he’d never set foot there again, but in the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Grimmauld or Azkaban- what difference did it really make? He took a deep breath, and stepped into the fire.


End file.
